


The Uses of Mistletoe

by Whreflections



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, M/M, Mistletoe, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 19:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whreflections/pseuds/Whreflections
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas sets out to help decorate the house for Christmas, but he's got<br/>a bit of an ulterior motive. "You know, Cas, there’re only two reasons people need mistletoe..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Uses of Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Written Christmas 09...I tried to write gen Supernatural Christmas fic and got this instead, lmao

Castiel had this planned, mostly. Or at least, he’d planned hanging the mistletoe. What he  _hadn’t_  planned was for Dean to already be in the kitchen washing dishes, and to look up and actually see him hanging it.   
  
  
Of course once he  _did_  see him, Dean just had to turn around, his eyebrows edging up, soapy, wet hands still hovering just over the water. “Cas? What’re you doin’?”   
  
  
He cocked his head, refused to get flustered. “I…Christmas decorations.” He held it a little higher, palm tilting forward. “You said you wanted my help with the house, and from everything I’ve read, this is part of traditional Christmas decorations.” True, but it also left out a lot. Namely, the facts of exactly  _why_  he was hanging that particular decoration. Dean  _had_  wanted his help, yes, and the decorations they’d already put up had seemed to lighten both Dean’s and Sam’s moods considerably. Even Bobby had seemed a little more cheerful. It had been years since he’d actually paid attention to human celebrations, and he’d had to sit down at Sam’s computer to glance over just what he might add to their efforts to fix up the house. When he’d seen what mistletoe was used for, it had seemed like the perfect chance to participate  _and_  address something that was frustrating him, likely without reason.   
  
  
Dean chuckled, shook the largest soap bubbles off of his hands before wiping them on his jeans and stepping away from the sink. He gestured for him to come closer, and Castiel couldn’t resist edging forward, giving Dean the chance to grab his hips and pull him in quick, their lips already brushing. “ ‘m I not kissing you enough? Damn, I must be gettin’ rusty…you gotta tell me these things, Cas.” His voice was soft, teasing, and he didn’t give Cas a chance to answer before he pressed their lips fully together, warm and almost chaste. He could feel the slight brush of tongue from between Dean’s open lips, though, and he opened immediately to him, felt warm breath from Dean’s soft laugh as he pulled back before kissing him in earnest, tongue sliding sensuously between his lips.   
  
  
He’d seen thousands of humans doing this, over the years, and while he was probably biased and had never really paid proper attention, he was still willing to bet  _no one_  had ever kissed like Dean. He put all of his focus into it, every considerable bit of skill he’d ever learned, but it was still more than that. From the first time he’d kissed Castiel in the Impala until now, his  _heart_  was in it, every time. It was breathtaking, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Dean had always kissed his lovers  _exactly_  like this, or if he was getting something special, something more. Something deep and possessive in him hoped so, but he really didn’t want to know the answer.   
  
  
He got lost in it easily, dropping the mistletoe on the counter as his hands slid to rest at Dean’s hips. His t-shirt was wet at the bottom from where the warm water had splashed up on him, sticking the thin cotton to his skin. For Castiel, this was all new. He’d known other angels who had indulged themselves, but he’d never dared, never truly  _desired_  anyone. Not like this. More than that, he’d never been in a relationship before, so all of it, every facet was new.   
  
  
Every day since  _this_  had started between them, it seemed he was learning something about himself he hadn’t known, but somehow it all seemed to come far more naturally, more  _humanly_  than he’d thought it would, now that he was letting himself have what he’d wanted. He hadn’t realized, for instance, that the feel of Dean’s shirt sticking to his skin like that would be such a turn on it but it was, undeniably. He could imagine how he’d look in the rain, muscles defined underneath, bare skin still covered that he’d been lucky enough to see, to  _touch_.  
  
  
He surged forward, trapping Dean’s body between his and the sink, hands sliding up underneath his shirt in the back, rubbing against damp skin. Dean eagerly gave over control of the kiss, his mouth going just a little more slack to let Castiel in deeper, a soft, needy noise rising from his throat when Castiel’s teeth grazed his lip. He’d always considered this a sin, before. At the very least, too great a decadent indulgence, wasting time with things like this when there was so much else important his kind needed to be doing.   
  
  
Even  _if_  he hadn’t already been basically disowned, after his first time with Dean he’d have changed his mind, he knew it. He’d rebuilt Dean, sure, but his Father had been the one to make him to begin with, and Dean was absolutely  _made_  for this. He was dizzyingly good no matter what he did, from the slightest brush of his hand against Castiel’s arm to the way Dean fit inside him, deep and perfect. They hadn’t been together all that long yet, but every time Dean had taken him it had been with a slow thoroughness that was nothing short of making love, even if Dean was having trouble actually  _saying_  the word. (To his credit, he was trying. He’d managed, “Cas, I…” a couple of times, but both times he’d panicked and nervously changed the subject.) For whatever time they had left on this earth, he didn’t want to ever have to go long without the feeling of Dean inside him. He was curious about turning the tables as well, and if the way Dean went pliant in his arms when he kissed him was any indication, he doubted Dean would say no.   
  
  
His cock responded to the thought, twitching eagerly, and he slid his knee up between Dean’s thighs like Dean had done before for him, giving him something to rock against. Dean groaned, low, his hands tightening, grappling until one of them found his tie and he used it to yank him in even closer, his hips already working against his thigh.   
  
  
Dean pulled back from the kiss, breath hitched as he whispered against his skin. “Wanna fuck me, Cas, is that it?” Heat flushed through his skin at the words, a low sound rising in his chest as his grip tightened.  _Yes_. Yes, he’d like that. Dean shifted, went still after pressing down onto Castiel’s knee one more time. Dean leaned into him, grinning down at him with a playful glint in his eyes. “I’d like that, I would.  _God_ , I would.” His whisper dropped even softer, his head turning to brush a peck of a kiss against Castiel’s cheek. “But not in the kitchen, with Sam just on the other side of that wall.”   
  
  
His grip shifted, pushing away instead of pulling Castiel closer and Cas let him, his head clearing just a little with the extra space. He really  _was_  responding far more to touch and distraction than he’d ever imagined he could. Even if it was something he’d  _thought_  about, that had absolutely nothing to do with why he’d come in here, or even with the conversation they’d been having. He blinked, felt himself blush a little as he looked away, leaning on the counter and letting the cool tile bite into his hand. It at least did a  _little_  to help him regain his focus, draw attention away from the erection now pressing hard against his pants. To think, he used to have such good control.   
  
  
Dean, of course, had somehow  _planned_  at least part of that, was a little less startled by the sudden lack of heat. He dipped one hand in the water, flicked some back in Castiel’s direction, smirking as he turned back to the dishes. “You know, Cas-” He cleared his throat, easing back into normal conversation as if they hadn’t been making out furiously the moment before. “There’re only two reasons people need mistletoe.” Dean looked back over his shoulder, made sure he was listening. “Usually, as a totally legitimate excuse to kiss someone they think they can’t kiss any other way. And at this point you  _really_ shouldn’t think you need an excuse to kiss me.” Dean let his eyes drop back to his work, scanning over the pot he was scrubbing. “Other than that, it’s just re-staking your claim in front of people you think need a good reminder of what’s  _yours_.”   
  
  
Yes,  _exactly_.   
  
  
Dean shrugged, switching sides of the sink to rinse the pot off before he slipped it into the drainer. “So, we don’t really need any of it around here. Be a hassle more than anything, ‘cause there’s no one else around that’d be anything but annoyed by it, you know?”   
  
  
He shuffled a little nervously, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he spoke. “Those reasons aren’t completely…all inclusive.” For instance, he wasn’t exactly wanting to  _remind_  anyone of what was his. There was no claim to re-stake, and  _that_  was what he wanted to fix.   
  
  
It seemed like longer, after all they’d been through in such a short time, but they really hadn’t been sleeping together all that long. Even so, he was already tired of the secrecy. Almost every time so far had been either in the Impala, in Dean’s dreams, or, if they were lucky, on a hotel bed while Sam was out. Here at Bobby’s, though, had been the worst. His powers slipped away from him more every day, and he’d recently started to actually need sleep, rather than just be able to enjoy it if he wanted. Two nights ago Dean had slipped into the guest bedroom he’d been using and woken him with his lips wrapped around him, sucking him hard and quick, his body shuddering with his own release when Castiel came in his mouth. He’d pulled Dean up into his arms, nuzzling warm against his throat, and he’d fallen asleep with his body draped all around him. When he’d woken up Dean was gone, and in that moment he’d finally understood why humans had such a problem with their lovers leaving afterwards. It had  _hurt_ , but he’d kept that to himself. Then, yesterday, Dean had been sitting beside him while they researched about Death, fingers trailing through his hair as he read. The minute he’d heard Sam on the stairs he’d jerked his hand away, and the loss had been far more wounding that it should’ve been.   
  
  
Dean turned to half face him, one hand fishing around in the sink for his next dish. “They’re not, huh? Which reason did I miss?”   
  
  
He licked his lips again, uncertain about saying it out loud. If it was  _that_  important to Dean that Sam not know, he didn’t want to push him away. Still… “Sam.” He muttered it softly, almost too low to hear.   
  
  
Dean laughed, loud and warm, shaking his head. “Dude,  _c’mon_. He’s my  _brother_ , for chrissakes, he’s not competition!”   
  
  
Maybe not quite  _competition_ , but him not knowing was certainly getting in the way. He kept quiet, didn’t have to look back to know Dean was watching him. He heard him pull his hands out of the water, felt warm heat as he reached over to tug on his hand.   
  
  
“Cas. Hey, look at me.” He couldn’t say no, really. Not with Dean talking in that soft, earnest voice of his. Their eyes met, and in Dean’s he could see the genuine worry that he’d done something wrong. That warmed him, and he felt some of his tension ease, his fingers curling around Dean’s. “What, you want me to kiss you in front of Sam, is that it?”   
  
  
He nodded, his heart in his throat. This was where Dean would tell him Sam could never know; he was sure of it. And that would have to be alright. “You left, the other night. I thought, if Sam knew-“  
  
  
“Sam  _knows_ , Cas! He’s my  _brother_.” Just like always, Dean poured such raw emotion into the word, his eyes softening at the thought of Sam. Sam would always be the center of his existence, and really, that was alright, as it should be. He just wanted a place there, too. “Hell, Sam knew before I ever made a move.” He brushed his thumb against Castiel’s hand, his eyes flicking down. “I mean, somethin’ serious like that, had to let him know first.”   
  
  
 _Serious_. Yeah, that was just what he wanted them to be.   
  
  
Dean shook his head, smiling a little as he pulled his hand away, leaned back against the sink. “ ‘Course,  _Bobby_  on the other hand has no idea I’m screwing one of the heavenly host, and I wasn’t exactly sure how to break it to him yet.”   
  
  
Oh.  _Bobby_. Still, that didn’t explain everything. “Even on the road you…” His skin heated at the memory of the most recent time in the backseat of the Impala, both their pants barely jerked down, Dean on top of him and rutting against him, whispering filth that he’d never imagined could be so hot in his ear. He’d come first, and seconds later the alarm Dean had set on his phone had gone off. He’d jerked back like he’d been scalded, shoved his dick back in his pants and hopped into the driver’s seat, muttering angrily that Sam’d be coming out to the car any minute. He’d turned on the air conditioner, rubbed steam off the windows and muttered darkly, and he’d been short with Sam when he’d showed up minutes later. “Last week, in the car-“  
  
  
Dean laughed, eyes darkening. “God, I coulda killed him for that one. Still, it’s not him coming in on us fucking that would be the problem, really, ‘cause I mean, he’s walked in on a lot of things he’d rather have not seen before.” He flashed a grin, only covering it when his brain caught up to the fact that Cas wouldn’t want to see those things, either. “Anyway, point is, he’d tease me into next year. I’d never hear the end of it. And I could handle it, ‘cause that’s kind of in the whole ‘little brother’ job description, and I’m used to it, but I don’t want him riding  _your_  ass over it. But it’s buggin’ you, and that kinda defeats the purpose, so…” Dean shrugged, trying to skate over it quick like he always did every time he said anything personal.   
  
  
Castile smiled, soft and happy. He’d have never guessed Dean was keeping some distance to try and protect  _him_ , but he was happy to be wrong. He appreciated the sentiment, really, but not the distance. If Sam made fun of him for it, he could handle that. “Thank you, Dean, but I’d rather-“  
  
  
Dean’s fingers brushed over his lips, quieting him. “No, I get it now. We’ll fix it.” He pushed off of the counter with his other hand, reaching behind Cas to snag the mistletoe he’d set down on the counter into his hand. “You thinkin’ right over the doorway? They’re in there watchin’ the game, told ‘em we’d come in when I finished up in here. I can go take ‘em some eggnog, come back to get mine, accidently pass you bringing it to me?”   
  
  
He nodded, heading to the fridge to pour four glasses as Dean taped the mistletoe over the doorway. He made a show of it too, pulling over a kitchen chair to stand up on, scraping it against the wood on the way over.   
  
  
From the living room, Bobby turned up the TV just a little, though Dean already had his attention.   
  
  
“What the hell’re you doin’?”   
  
  
Dean shrugged, tape roll between his teeth until his hands were free to hold it. “What’s it look like I’m doin’? Mistletoe.”   
  
  
Castiel heard Bobby snort, and he could almost picture him rolling his eyes. “Good luck with that. Sorry to break it to you, but your porn collection isn’t gonna get up and start walking around the house anytime soon.”   
  
  
Cas heard the chair scrape back into place, felt Dean’s arms wind around his waist, his lips at his neck as he poured the last glass. The corners of his lips quirked up, and he leaned back just slightly into Dean’s warmth. “You’re supposed to wait until I’m in the doorway.”   
  
  
“What, I can’t kiss you twice? You’re mean.” He mumbled it against his skin, sucked lightly against his jaw before nuzzling against him, stubble scraping, likely leaving pink skin behind, marking him in advance. He absolutely didn’t mind.   
  
  
Dean let go and reached around, snatching the closest two glasses and heading off toward the living room. “Grab ours ‘n c’mon. Just give me like, 5 seconds.”   
  
  
He didn’t actually count, got close to the door but waited instead until he heard the board he knew was just past the TV creak before he stepped into the doorframe. Dean met him there, eyes darting up as he let out an exaggerated sigh.   
  
  
“Crap, mistletoe. Guess I have no choice.” The way every word dripped with sarcasm might’ve been a little funnier, if he’d had a second to enjoy it. As it was, any scrap of thought beyond pure sensation had to go into not dropping the glasses in his hands, and that was hard enough. Dean kissed him with fierce aggression, the hand on his cheek stroking against his jaw to coax his mouth open wider. It was deep and thorough, and the way Dean’s right hand splayed against his chest felt nothing short of predatory, but even so there was the same tenderness about it Dean always had when he kissed him, and he hummed softly in pleasure low in his throat, heart jolting when Dean moaned quietly in response, hand rubbing slow over Castiel’s heart.   
  
  
“Alright,  _alright_! Jesus, Dean, rule says you have to kiss him not  _grope_  him!” called Sam, and Cas felt Dean lift his hand to flip him off, waiting another couple of seconds before he backed away from the kiss, sucking Cas’s lower lip between his teeth and letting it slip free slowly.   
  
  
There wasn’t even silence for a second. Bobby scoffed, muttering something about Dean having been a damn exhibitionist since he was a teenager, and Sam was screeching something about his eyes and needing bleach, but Cas didn’t care. Dean was grinning down at him, bright green eyes sparkling, one hand still cupped against his cheek.   
  
  
He leaned down to nuzzle against him, breath ghosting warm over damp lips. “There. I fixed it.” 


End file.
